


Snapshots

by Lillielle



Series: Shattered Universe [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Dissociative Identity Disorder, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rape, Set in Shattered universe, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillielle/pseuds/Lillielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me.</p><p>One-shot/drabble collection set in the Shattered universe. Fits in with Shattered from Harry's childhood. Harry has Dissociative Identity Disorder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Kittens Like To Play

**Author's Note:**

> Kitten doesn't understand why the others don't like when Uncle Vernon comes to play...

_Pretty girl, pretty boy, don't you want to be pretty, be pretty for me, come for me, come to me, oh so pretty..._

Kitten likes her nights with Uncle Vernon. The rest of the household is sleeping, Aunt Petunia tucked up tight in the big queen-size bed her and Uncle share, Dudley sprawled and snoring in his own that sags in the middle from his grotesque weight. Uncle unlocks the cupboard, easing it open with extra care so the hinge doesn't squeak, before he retrieves her. He's always breathing heavily when he does, his shirt stained with sweat, but his thick fingers are gentle on her arms as he lifts her out. She's so light it isn't even a strain.

They never go anywhere exciting. At most, when Uncle is so insistent to be with her that she can feel the throbbing against her cheek when she stumbles and 'accidentally' ends up with a faceful of his crotch, he will bend her over the back of the sofa and do it there, sinking into her and making her wish it could last forever, this twisted mixture of pain and pleasure that hurts so good, she can barely stand it.

Usually, though, he takes her down into the basement, holding her hand as gently as Aunt does Dudders at the shopping mall, and she skips along beside him, slightly chapped bottom lip tucked up tight beneath her front teeth, peeking through her eyelashes. He turns on the bare lightbulb and draws her to the customary spot, a slightly scuffed mat that has gone through more washings and refurbishings than even the stained, paper-thin mattress in their cupboard.

"Undress," he orders hoarsely and Kitten obeys, removing each overly large, patched item of clothing with teasing reverence, watching the greedy look in his eyes intensify until he drags her to him, pulling off the rest and shoving her to the mat, unbuckling his pants as he does. The sound of the buckle frightens Blue and Freak, as it always does, and Kitten shoves them back, pushing them out of the way so that she can have her moment. Her time to shine, her time to enjoy, and his mouth is on hers, slobbering over her lips, and he tastes unpleasant, like stale alcohol and sour sweat, but she doesn't mind. 

His hands caress her rail-thin frame and she curses the flat, boyish planes of their body, the equipment tucked neatly between their legs,  _Harry's_ legs, it is a jarringly unpleasant reminder that she is cursed to look like a boy, although Uncle knows she's not, doesn't he? Of course he does with how often he says she's a pretty girl, she's his pretty  _kitten_ , and oh when he does, how her hips twitch, how she moans low in her throat when he presses her to the floor and takes her.

It hurts, it always does, but Kitten doesn't care. To her, the pain is pleasure, and pleasure is pain, and it all intermingles in one glorious, if slightly shabby, whole as he pushes her into the mat. She can't breathe, choking on dust and her own wadded-up shirt crushed beneath her, but it's okay. When he empties himself into her, collapsing to one side with a thick, put-upon groan, she cuddles up to his side, ignoring the pain in her arse, ignoring everything but his sweat-shined body next to hers. He puts an arm over her for a moment, patting her shoulder with one pudgy hand.

"Good kitten," he sighs, and for a moment, just one moment, Kitten is happy.


	2. Just a Freak, That's All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has no other name...

"Freak! Clean that up!"

"Useless freak, why can't you do anything right?"

"Ha, Mum says you're a freak, you have to do what I want!"

The words pound in Freak's head. A cuff around the ear here, a savagely administered pinch there. He accepts his place, curled up at Uncle's feet as the man's fists and feet sink into his unprotected body. The tears pour down his face, but he doesn't say a word. He knows better.

_You're a freak!_

Spit into his face like a cobra's venom, the man's piggy eyes squinted in genuine hatred down at his nephew.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he lisps pitifully, his bottom lip swelling and split, blood trickled darkly down his chin. Vernon laughs and punches him again, enjoying the way the breath is pushed out of the small body, the pain that grimaces across the freakish face.

_Good freak,_ echoes in his ears, and he is lifted unceremoniously and dumped on his stained mattress in the cupboard, the door locked firmly behind him.

It is not until they start school and Freak ends up out at recess that he discovers they have a name besides "freak."


	3. Lost in Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven's always liked books. They're her number one escape.

A book is a powerful thing. A magical thing. You can be anyone, do anything, go anywhere. A book is like _home_.

Books are the only home Raven knows. She lingers in the library during lunch and after school, knowing she shouldn't. Harry's cousin will find them. Hurt them.

But when she's tucked away in a corner, dusty paperback balanced on scabby knees, she can't quite bring herself to care. There are so many people to meet, distant lands to explore, adventures to start...she simply can't bring herself to even remember about the squinty-eyed big-boned bully she called a cousin.

For a while,  _The Lord of the Rings_ is her favourite. She likes a book with magic, though she doesn't know the magic that courses through her veins just yet. She treks with Frodo as she reads, gasps with her heart in her mouth as Gandalf stands his ground. The librarian, Mrs. Staret, lets her stay whenever she tiptoes in through the doors, that apologetic grimace on her face as if she is too aware of the space she takes up and hates it.

(For Mrs. Staret's part, she is quite pleased to have a student who actually appreciates literature as much as she does. Harry is a very quiet boy in the library, a very  _awed_ boy, and a boy who loves books like that is always more than welcome. She can  _see_ the wonder on his face every time he turns a page, the way he falls headlong into enjoying the  _story_ , and it is a magical thing, even for a very old librarian who can't quite believe in wonders anymore.)

But after a while, Raven can't really decide on a favourite. How do you choose the best among friends? She's fallen through the looking glass with Alice, she's discovered the secret garden with a very disagreeable young girl, she's transported herself to old, bleak streets with Oliver Twist. They are her friends in a way that outside people can never be.

And when she has to go home, as eventually she must, back to the fear and pain and never-ending turmoil that is the Dursleys' residence, she often caresses a spine here, the turn of a page there, as if she is reassuring old and familiar faces that she will return, she will not leave them.

Until they get their Hogwarts letter, she never does.


End file.
